The fight
by british-bossy
Summary: Mycroft shows up at Clara's doorstep after a fight. Myclara (Mycroft Holmes x Clara Oswald) fluff.


The fight

He stood in front of her door, afraid to press the bell. He'd been walking through half of London, in the middle of the night, something he never did. He had hoped that walking would give him enough time to figure out what he was going to say but now that he had reached his aim he found his mind blank.

The rain had soaked his clothes for he had left his umbrella in his office, he was shaking from the cold and from the fear. The fear. It was running so hot through his veins that he was panting. Mycroft carded one hand trough his wet hair before he finally pressed the door bell and straightened himself. Closing his eyes he counted the seconds before he heard her footsteps approaching the door. When he heard the lock being opened, his heart stopped for a moment. Clara answered him wearing her blue morning gown. She looked as beautiful as always and his breath almost stuck in his throat. "Mycroft", she said, her expression surprised.

"Oh my god, what happened? Come in!" She stepped aside but he hesitated. He would rather stay put so he could run in the worst case.

"I would rather-", he began but stopped himself.

"I will only ruin your carpet", he said instead, trying to keep his body from shaking like a leaf. Her eyes went wide.

"Damn the carpet, you're soaked!", she exclaimed and tugged him inside, closing the door behind him.

"What the hell happened to you? Where's your umbrella?", she asked, taking a step back to look him over. As far as he could tell this was the beginning.

"Hang on, did you _walk_ over here?"

"Clara", he began and reached out for her but withdrew again.

"I came here to tell you that I know what I did was wrong. I need to apologize for my behaviour and for bringing you into this unpleasant situation. It was never my intention to make you feel...uncomfortable and...but I did and...", he stopped, tyring to order his thoughts. Why was his mind leaving him right now? Why was it unable to work out the most important thing in his life?

"I know that I should have known better because..I always know better but not when it comes to this. I- I need you to know that I can do better. Even though you won't believe it now, why would you? And even if I cannot change your mind and argue you out of your decision, let me...let me tell you that I am willing to try and make it better. For you". He only realised he was panting heavily when he had to stop for breathing. Clara shook her head incomprehensibly.

"What the hell are you talking about?", she asked and crossed her arms. It was done. She was already warding him off, rejecting him.

"Clara, I-...You do have every right to leave me after my inexcuseable behaviour but...I am not going to let this happen without a fight. I won't let you go without trying to convince you that I can do better than this. I promise I will try". His shaking had increased and he was clenching his fists until it hurt. Although it was warm inside her flat, Mycroft couldn't stop it. Even when her expression softened, he could feel his stomach twist painfully.

"I'm not leaving you, Mycroft", she said, her tone surprisingly gentle. He couldn't help but frown at her. Had he miscalculated? Could he really have been this wrong?

"But you were angry with me", he stated, reading her expression. "You still are. You said that you did not want to see me and that you needed time to think and...your space. And I know how much you meant it". She had been furious! She'd almost been yelling at him, walking around in circles in order to calm down her rage. That had been two days ago.

Clara moved closer and placed her hands tentatively against the wet material of his shirt which was clinging to his chest, her face slightly amused. Mycroft fought the urge to close his eyes at her touch. She was so warm.

Shaking her head at him she said: "Just because I'm angry doesn't mean I don't love you anymore". He did not notice any traces of lying on her face and dropped his gaze, utterly confused by now.

"You did not have any intention to try and... _break up_...with me?", he asked, the words strange and bitter on his tongue.

"No", she whispered softly, her fingers now caressing his cold cheek. Mycroft stared at her in sheer disbelief and he couldn't find his voice. The fear was slowly fading and his breath was going back to normal. He suddenly felt exhausted. Clara stepped closer to pull him towards her but he held up his hands. "I'm completely drenched", he objected but she ignored it.

"Shh, I don't care", she breathed and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest. Mycroft felt her body against his almost numb one and let his head drop, kissing the crown of her hair. She tensed briefly when his hands made contact with the warm skin of her neck but she stayed there. He closed his eyes as he felt a wave of relief washing over him, cleaning the fear away.

"You know", Clara said and lifted her head up to look at him. "Next time I'd appreciate it if you called me when you want to come over rather than expect me in my flat when I come home from work". She lifted her eyebrows, underlining her argument. "Like any normal boyfriend would do". Mycroft couldn't hold back a sly smile.

"Normal's boring", he whispered teasingly, his thumb stroking her cheek.

"Shut up, you", she murmered before she got on her toes and kissed him.


End file.
